


Nice Shot

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowman makes a point of not asking Doc Scratch why he does the things he does. It’s not as if she’s not occasionally curious about the reasons why the Felt are ordered to rob one bank but not another, or what point there is to kidnapping someone for 48 hours before turning them loose unharmed, or why it’s essential they exchange one painting at the local art gallery for another almost identical painting. But she’s learned something over the years that the other Felt haven’t; sometimes you’re better off not knowing the reason for something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BatchSan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatchSan/gifts).



Snowman makes a point of not asking Doc Scratch why he does the things he does. It’s not as if she’s not occasionally curious about the reasons why the Felt are ordered to rob one bank but not another, or what point there is to kidnapping someone for 48 hours before turning them loose unharmed, or why it’s essential they exchange one painting at the local art gallery for another almost identical painting. But she’s learned something over the years that the other Felt haven’t; sometimes you’re better off not knowing the reason for something. 

The urge to ask him rises to the forefront when she’s called into his office and given a mysterious task. The animated puppet hands her a slip of paper with an address neatly typed on it and a simple instruction. “Go to this place and destroy every camera you find.” 

“Why?” comes to mind first, followed by “How many cameras?”, “What’s on them?” and of course “Why me?”. She vocalizes none of these, knowing that the answer is likely something she has little to no interest in, or something she will have rather not known after the fact. Snowman simply nods, memorizing the address and tucking it into a pocket. “Now?”

“Yes.” The conversations she has with Doc Scratch are almost always short. She knows the man can speak more, but she is perfectly fine with them speaking just enough to establish what must be done. With the address clear in her mind, Snowman concentrates on it and relaxes, feeling the universe fill her. Her mind slides over Midnight City, picks a point, and pulls on it, tugging the universe back out of her, and her body from one point to another. 

The new place is a small home. Someone is at home in the kitchen, perhaps making dinner. Snowman glances around at the walls, noting that they’re covered in a variety of photographs of Alternia and the city. All are very professionally shot images, most with buildings in them or ruins of some kind. She could spent a lot of time looking through them, but whoever is in the kitchen won’t be there long and she has a job to do. 

There must be a darkroom here somewhere. The basement seems the most likely option and she focuses again, this time teleporting downwards into darkness. There’s no light down here and she digs out her lighter, nearly striking it before she remembers that might be a dangerous thing to do in a room full of chemicals. She tucks the lighter away instead and takes careful steps with one arm outstretched until her fingers touch a wall. From there, it’s simply a matter of making her way around the room until she finds a light switch. 

Red light fills the room, revealing strings full of dried pictures and sinks full of chemicals. Snowman’s curiosity gets the better of her and she looks at the pictures hanging over the sinks, scanning through them. Most are just of the desert, some of rock formations, others just of shifting sands. It’s only as she gets to the end that she notices a change in subjects. The rock outcroppings give way to familiar territory, and then to the unmistakable sight of the Felt Mansion, nestled in the desert. Ah, that’s why he wants them destroyed. The Felt can’t afford to have carapacians sniffing around their home, especially not if some of them end up being the Midnight Crew. That would certainly turn into a bloodbath. 

The cameras are sitting on a shelf nearby, neatly organized. Snowman takes each camera and pulls them into pieces, shattering the lenses and wrenching open the casings before dumping them into the waiting chemicals. Scratch didn’t specify she should destroy the photos but she does so anyway, ripping them apart and soaking them to ensure there’s no proof left. It’s not entirely quiet business and eventually the basement door opens as the homeowner decides to investigate. 

Snowman brings her gun up and shoots out the bulb, reducing the room to dark long shadows, the only source of light from the top of the basement stairs. She grabs hold of the sinks full of chemicals and with all her strength, she wrenches them from their bolted positions on the walls and dumps them over the floor. The smell of chemicals is heavy, and as she draws her lighter from her pocket, she’s already grasping at the universe and thinking of a place outside of the house. Snowman lights the flame, ready to teleport the moment it takes, but while it flickers, the room remains intact. How disappointing. 

She changes her destination and teleports out. A few minutes later, she returns, making sure to appear outside the home and wait for the photographer to leave the room, presumably to call the police. Snowman teleports inside and empties out the gasoline on the floor and the surrounding intact equipment. This time when she flame kicks on, the entire room goes up half a second later, Snowman just barely teleporting out in time to avoid the flames. 

The house burns down fairly quickly. It may be overkill, but she suspects Doc Scratch will be satisfied with this end result. She doesn’t bother to watch and see if the photographer escaped. That really doesn’t concern her. Only her duties do. 

She reeks of chemicals when she returns home and Snowman heads directly to her bathroom to wash herself clean. Doc seems to have been aware of her intentions, as she finds a hot bath has been drawn and a fresh change of clothes awaits her. She reflects momentarily on how this is both convenient and creepy before putting it out of her mind and shedding her clothes. The warm water awaits and she’s had enough answers for one night.


End file.
